


give me one good honest kiss

by knoxoursavior



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Succession Contest Arc (Hunter X Hunter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: Illumi wakes to fingers in his hair and the sharp point of a nail tracing down the vein along his neck. The air he breathes in is sickly sweet instead of stale, and Illumi has woken up warm instead of alone.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 16
Kudos: 164





	give me one good honest kiss

**Author's Note:**

> written for [dracoryss](https://twitter.com/dracoryss) on twitter aaa its my first time writing hisoillu so i hope its ok and also happy holidays 🥺🥺
> 
> thank u to [mikashisui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikashisui/pseuds/mikashisui) who was there to witness me early into writing this fic and for being so encouraging aaa and thank u to [completist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/completist) for listening to me panic abt the lube situation (and the fingering situation) and also for reading over this fic aaa

Illumi wakes to fingers in his hair and the sharp point of a nail tracing down the vein along his neck. The air he breathes in is sickly sweet instead of stale, and Illumi has woken up warm instead of alone. 

When he opens his eyes, it's Hisoka that greets him, the dangerous curve of his smile standing out even in the low light. His thigh must be numb where Illumi has been resting his head the entire time he was asleep, but Hisoka shows no indication of it.

“You're still here,” Illumi says.

Hisoka tilts his head, and Illumi keeps still as Hisoka bends down into his space, as Hisoka traces a line from his collarbone up his neck, to his lips.

“You're much too interesting when you sleep, Illu,” Hisoka says, close enough that Illumi can feel his breath. Close enough that Illumi could kiss him, if he wished.

But Illumi turns his head away instead, fixing his eyes on the sliver of light under the door. “You shouldn't be here. Kuroro knows where I stay.”

Hisoka presses a kiss to Illumi's cheek. “Worried, darling?”

Illumi doesn't deign to give him a response, doesn't react even when Hisoka presses his tongue against his skin and licks a stripe up to his ear.

“There's no reason to worry. He's busy. I made sure of it,” Hisoka says. The words are whispered into Illumi's ear, sending a shiver up his spine that he doesn't fight.

“What have you done?”

Hisoka clicks his tongue. “That's boring, Illu. I'd rather talk about what I'm going to do to you.”

Illumi turns back to face Hisoka, lips dry, his heartbeat in his ears. “And what are you going to do to me, assuming I let you?” 

“Make you suck my cock for one. I know you like that,” Hisoka says. He runs a hand down Illumi's neck, and then under his shirt, down his chest, leaving goosebumps in its trail. His thumb catches on Illumi's nipple, and Illumi arches his back, asking for more.

“But I don't want to come in your mouth. I already did that last night.” Hisoka hums, presses an open-mouthed kiss to Illumi's jaw, teeth brushing against skin, just enough to tease. Then, breath warm against Illumi's wet skin, “Where do you think I should come, Illu? Between your thighs? On your chest? On your back?” 

Illumi shifts where he's lying down until his head rests on the junction between Hisoka's hip and thigh, until he can reach out and pull down Hisoka's pants by the waistband. Hisoka's half-hard already, and Illumi doesn't hesitate to curl one hand around the base, to press a kiss to the tip and run his tongue over the head. He looks up at Hisoka, “You haven't decided already? I'm disappointed.”

“I do so hate disappointing you,” Hisoka says, reaching out to press his palm against Illumi's cheek.

Illumi tilts his head, leans into the touch as their gazes meet. “Make it up to me then.”

Hisoka tucks Illumi's hair behind his ear, leans in to kiss him, short and sweet, “Get my cock wet first and I will, Illu.”

Just for that, Illumi licks a stipe up Hisoka's cock and follows it up with his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin. He savors in the way Hisoka shakes, the way Hisoka's hand slides to the back of his neck, pushing Illumi closer. 

Illumi wraps his lips around the head of Hisoka's cock, lets it sit against his tongue for a moment, lets himself get used to the bitter taste of Hisoka's precome. He looks up at Hisoka as he does—Hisoka's head thrown back, the line of his neck exposed. Illumi wants to press his teeth against Hisoka's neck and bite down, to leave his mark on Hisoka's skin. For now, he contents himself with taking in more of Hisoka's cock into his mouth, little by little until it hits the back of his throat.

“Illu—  _ Illumi, _ you feel so good.”

Illumi's name is more beautiful in Hisoka's voice than anyone else's, and it's the most beautiful when weaved into a moan, breathed out into existence with a shudder. Illumi swallows around Hisoka's cock, coaxes his name from Hisoka's lips a few more times before he hollows out his cheeks, his tongue sliding up the underside of Hisoka's cock until it catches on the head, and then down again. He builds up his pace, speeding up until it turns sloppy, just the way Hisoka likes it.

And when Hisoka starts to shiver, when his hold around Illumi's nape tightens, when his moans become a string of Illumi's name over and over again without pause—then, Illumi slows down. Slows down and presses his swollen lips against Hisoka's cock from the base to the head, leaving a trail of spit as he pulls away.

He curls his hand around Hisoka's cock, pumps one, two, three times as he presses his cheek against Hisoka's thigh. Hisoka looks down at him, eyes clear, lips curled just a little bit different than usual, and Illumi knows that he has Hisoka in the palm of his hand right now. That could change tomorrow, could change later, after Hisoka has come, but for now, all of Hisoka is Illumi's and Illumi's only.

“Wet enough?” Illumi asks.

“You aren't.” Hisoka's fingers slide into his hair, nails scratching at his neck as if he's a cat to be praised. Illumi would hate it if it didn't feel good. “Come here, darling.”

Illumi lets Hisoka pull him up, lets Hisoka press their chests together as they meet in a kiss. Hisoka tastes bubblegum sweet, an undercurrent of vodka and iron on his tongue. Illumi must taste like a mess, a mix of sleep and precome, but Hisoka doesn't say anything about it. Hisoka only kisses Illumi so lovingly, only holds him so gently that Illumi almost lets himself believe it, almost lets himself wish he could wake up to this everyday. Almost.

Illumi has built himself up for survival; he has enough sense to know when something poses too much of a risk, and he's long since classified Hisoka as such. Hisoka will die one day. Whether by Kuroro's hand or Illumi's own, it'll happen sooner rather than later. Illumi has no room in himself for silly things like hope or love. There's only his family's name and himself, only the promise of Hisoka's blood on his hands and the money that comes with it.

And this—Hisoka's hand splayed across his back, Hisoka's tongue licking into his mouth, Hisoka's body pressed against his—this is all just part of the package. Part of the agreement, part of the payment perhaps, and Illumi will make sure that he takes everything that Hisoka has to give.

Illumi pulls away, and tastes blood in his mouth where Hisoka has bitten him for it. Illumi gives as good as he gets, presses kisses to Hisoka's skin from his lips down to his neck, and bites down until his teeth break skin.

“You're getting carried away,” he says. “Make better use of your tongue elsewhere,  _ darling.” _

Hisoka curls a hand around his neck, keeping Illumi where he is. “You're too distracting for your own good, my Illu. I could be out there, torturing poor Kuroro, and yet here I am, wanting you.”

Illumi breathes in, out—again and again until he can parse Hisoka's words and dismiss them in turn.  _ I am not yours,  _ he doesn't say.  _ You do not want me,  _ he doesn't say,  _ not more than you want Kuroro dead.  _

Instead, he says, “You shouldn't have hired me then.”

Hisoka's answer comes easy. Automatic. “Ah, but it would have been boring without you.”

This, at least, Illumi believes. One truth after a string of lies; Illumi will take it, just as he takes everything Hisoka gives.

He lets Hisoka push him down onto his hands and knees, lets Hisoka's hands and teeth and tongue trail down his back until Illumi's thighs are spread apart by his hands, until Illumi feels teeth biting down the flesh of his ass and a tongue teasing at his hole.

“I've missed you,” Hisoka says, and Illumi has to bite down a retort as Hisoka's tongue dips into him, as his own voice escapes his lips in a moan. Obscene, just the way Hisoka likes it.

Illumi fists his hands into the sheets, spreads his legs as far as he can, and lets himself go, lets himself  _ feel,  _ just for a short while. Illumi has built himself for survival, and that means building tolerance to feeling—pain and pleasure and everything in between. But being with Hisoka has always been an exception to that. This time is no different. Illumi feels every stroke of Hisoka's tongue inside him, feels every time Hisoka's hands squeeze around his thighs. He feels his own cock, hard and wanting, but it's nothing compared to Hisoka's attention.

Hisoka opens him up until Illumi is shaking, so much that he lets his arms collapse underneath him, lets himself fall onto the mattress. The sheets muffle every moan and every whine that escapes his lips, and so Illumi lets himself go, lets himself be loud. He  _ wants _ Hisoka to hear what he does to him. With the way Hisoka licks into Illumi, the way Hisoka tightens his grip on Illumi's hips, he must hear it. He must  _ know _ how he affects Illumi, how he's walked into Illumi's life, how he's made Illumi  _ feel  _ or think of anyone but his family. Hisoka has doomed Illumi. And yet Illumi moans for him, begs for his tongue and his hands and his cock.

Hisoka pulls away, only to wrap an arm around Illumi's waist and tug him backwards. “Get yourself ready for me, Illumi.”

“Making me do the work?” Illumi says, but he pulls himself up nonetheless, rests his head on Hisoka's chest and takes the lube Hisoka has made permanent on his bedside table.

Hisoka presses a kiss to his temple, presses his cock against the small of Illumi's back. “I'll make it up to you later.”

That's all Illumi needs to open himself up right where he is, settled in between Hisoka's legs, held tightly in Hisoka's arms, his back pressed against Hisoka's chest. He dips one finger inside himself as Hisoka leaves marks on his neck, adds another just as Hisoka wraps a hand around his cock.

Illumi whines, shivers in Hisoka's hold. “You'll make me come. Stop it.”

“Don't you want to come?”

“Not yet,” Illumi says. “Not until you're in me.”

He hears Hisoka's breath catching, feels Hisoka's arm tighten around his waist. “Wet enough?” Hisoka asks.

Illumi pulls his fingers out of himself, mind hazy, overloaded with sensation, with want—oh, how he  _ wants.  _ He shouldn't— shouldn't even know what it means to want, but he does. Ever since he met Hisoka, he's known want and lust and attraction, experienced them in waves, hitting a high every time Hisoka holds him and ebbing away when Hisoka leaves long enough for Illumi to forget him. And now, with Hisoka's cock against his back, he wants and he lusts and he yearns for Hisoka's cock in him.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I'm so wet for you, I'm ready, I'm ready.”

Hisoka takes Illumi by his hips and pulls him down onto his cock in one long stroke—until Illumi is full, shivering as he lets himself adjust to Hisoka's cock inside him. He would fall apart if it weren't for Hisoka's arms around him, would lose control and cry if it weren't for Hisoka's silver tongue in his ear, murmuring praises. 

Hisoka starts to rock into him, short and slow strokes that make Illumi gasp. Heat builds in his stomach little by little, a slow burn that makes Illumi feel like he's losing his mind. He squirms in Hisoka's hold, wanting more. He holds onto Hisoka's arms around him, parts his lips to let out a string of words he can't parse or process. Illumi doesn't know what he's saying anymore, doesn't know anything but the feeling of Hisoka in him, behind him, underneath him.

But even so, Hisoka must hear him. He holds Illumi by his waist and starts fucking into him harder, deeper, in longer strokes that leave Illumi gasping to catch his breath. Illumi doesn't have to do anything but to try and stay upright, to breathe through every thrust, every time Hisoka sinks into him, every kiss pressed to his skin and every new mark bitten into his neck and his shoulders.

It all overwhelms him, brings him to the brink of despair, of desperation. Illumi wonders if this is what his targets feel like, the rare times a job calls for him to play with them, to torment them until they beg for him to kill them. This feels like dying, he thinks, feels like losing himself little by little until he's mindless and boneless. Until all that remains of him are the traces of Hisoka left on his skin and his throat and his ass.

Illumi reaches for Hisoka's hand on his waist, comes with Hisoka's fingers intertwined with his and Hisoka's name on his lips. He feels raw, fucked out. His throat burning, the skin around his neck and his shoulders pulsing, his rim sensitive to Hisoka’s every move inside him. He leans back against Hisoka’s chest, rests his head against Hisoka’s cheek, and as Hisoka continues to thrust into him, to find release in him, using him, Illumi imagines his body sinking into Hisoka until he becomes Hisoka and Hisoka becomes him. Two sides of the same coin. Pain and pleasure and everything in between.

When Hisoka comes, he adds another bruise to the library of marks he’s left on Illumi’s skin. Another reminder that Illumi is Hisoka’s for tonight. But his body will heal, will rid itself of any traces of Hisoka until Illumi is just Illumi. Nothing but a means to an end, a tool to be used, a knife to point at someone else for a price.

Illumi will miss this, he thinks. When Hisoka is gone and Illumi has no one left that's his and his alone—he'll miss this. No one else makes him feel like this, and he doubts anyone ever will besides Hisoka. He will ache in the night, thinking of Hisoka's lips on his skin, Hisoka's cock in him, and Hisoka's voice in his ear. How could he not, when even now, he aches, with Hisoka right there, wrapped around him.

_ I won’t let him kill you,  _ Illumi doesn’t say. Hisoka already knows it.

_ Don’t let him kill you,  _ Illumi doesn’t say. He already knows how Hisoka would respond. Foolish, prideful, greedy Hisoka.

Instead, he says, “Will you stay?”

“Do you want me to, Illu?”

Illumi knows what he should say, what he  _ would  _ say, if he knew better. But he’s tired, his common sense fucked out of him, and Hisoka— he is so,  _ so _ warm around him. “Do what you want to.”

Hisoka hums, and Illumi feels it with his entire body.

“I’ll stay then.”

**Author's Note:**

> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/singeiji) if u would like to see my rts i guess


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